


Apples

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:15:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim brings Blair apples.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apples

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at fanfic and my first attempt in a long time at writing any type of story. Should I quit now, while I can still bow out relatively gracefully? Huge thanks to qwertyuiop for advice, assistance, beta-reading and general hand-holding. Many changes made post-beta, so please blame me for any remaining errors. I posted this rated R, just to be on the safe side, but it's probably somewhere between PG and R.

## Apples

by Pink Dragon

Author's disclaimer: Not mine, more's the pity. No money made. No harm, no foul, right?

* * *

Apples 

"Here, Sandburg, I brought you something." He's just come in the door from work. I hadn't gone in with him cause I had a whole pile of tests to grade. Fall midterms, with lots of essay questions, answered by lots of freshmen who're finally getting to use all those big words they learned in high school. Sheesh. 

"Hi, Jim. How'd it go today?" I smile up at him, rolling my shoulders. My neck's a little stiff and my head's throbbing. 

"Long day, Chief, long day." He's holding out a brown paper bag towards me and smiling back. The bag says "Sandy Road Apple Farms, Centralia, Washington." I take it and peek inside. 

"Apples?" I say, with a big grin. 

"Yeah, bright guy, apples, " he answers in his "wise-ass" voice, but he's grinning back at me. He tosses his coat over the back of the couch, gives my head a little rub and turns for the kitchen. And there's that butt of his. Soooo niiiice. 

"But you had to work today." I blurt, eyes glued to his butt. "How did you have time to go get apples?" I'm watching that butt make its way to the kitchen. The one I had my tongue on last night. The butt, not the kitchen. God. He's wriggling it a little, and my cock gives a good hard twitch. 

"I had to do a follow-up interview with a witness in the Horcher case," he's saying, with his head stuck in the fridge and his butt pointed straight at me. Another wriggle. Shit, he's doing it on purpose. "She saw the carjack go down, the whole thing. Positive ID, by the way. She picked the guy out of a six-pack in 3 seconds flat." 

"That's great, Jim." His head's out of the fridge now, he's facing me, and I can breathe again. 

"She lives in Centralia," he continues, "therefore, apples." 

"Cool, man. A good solid witness, for a change! And my favorite kind of apples." He's cocking a hip against the counter and chugging down half a bottle of water. Nice, soft jeans today, all worn and stretched to fit. Dressed left, as usual. I think I shouldn't know that, but I do. Huh. 

"I know, Chief. That's why I went myself, instead of just having the local P.D. send someone over to show her the pictures." 

"Mmmm...." I've got my head halfway in the bag now, smelling the apples. Fresh picked apples, God, they smell good. I look up, and Jim is leaning over to grab the tea kettle just before it starts to squeal, and pouring hot water into the mug waiting on the counter. And there's that sweet butt again, waving at me. Forget the fucking tea and get that butt over here and let me lick it. Bite it. Memories from last night flash through my mind. Jim, spread-eagle on his bed, face down, with my cock inside him, sending him over the edge, my teeth marks on his butt. God, I love his butt. Especially love biting it. Makes him growl. I think I moaned. Jesus, I'm getting harder. What's that truck commercial? "Like a rock," I think to myself. Yeah. I've got a fucking Ford in my pants. 

He opens the cupboard, takes out a box of tea bags and drops one in the mug. Swinging those hips just a little more than absolutely necessary. "I'm surprised you remembered, man. It's been a year since we stopped there." I've got my head back in the bag, smelling. I'm really touched that he remembered my favorite apples. I take another deep lung-full of apple-smell. I grin at the apples, then aim it at Jim. 

"I remember that apple strudel you made." He grins back at me. He's in the living room now, bending over to put the mug on the coffee table, showing me his butt again. Ooooh, Jimmyboy, I wanna lick that. Just like last night, lick it, bite it, leave my mark. He stands up, and oh, Jesus, he's half hard. I pick up the mug and take a sip, trying not to stare. The tea is camomile, not too hot; he put an ice cube in it for me. I take a good long drink. Yeah, camomile. Good for headaches. He knows. Awww, Jim .... 

"Thanks, man," I say, and give him my sweetest smile. 

"For the apples or the tea, Sandburg?" A little sarcastic. But he's smiling, too. Now he's sitting down next to me, pulling me half-way into his lap, my back against his chest, and he's wrapping his arms around my waist, tight. I can feel his erection against my hip. 

I turn my head to kiss his arm, rubbing my face against it, still smiling, "For everything, man. Missed you today," I say softly, into the sleeve of his shirt. 

"Missed you too, babe," he whispers, lips against my neck now, and he gives me another hard squeeze. 

I lean over, put the tea down, pull an apple out of the bag and take a bite. It's good, crisp and sweet, juice running down my chin. "Mmmm, s'good, want some?" I hold the apple up for him. 

"Damn right I want some," he says, his voice low and hoarse, his lips brushing my throat. 

"You want me, or apples?" I laugh softly, still holding it up for him in one hand and running the other hand up and down the hard muscles of his thigh. He grabs the hand that has the apple, takes a big bite, making "mmm-good" sounds of his own as he tastes it, and slides his other hand down my body to rub my cock, warm and sweet and lazy. I know I moaned this time. Fuckin' truck's got nothin' on me. He nuzzles his face back into my neck, still stroking me. I thrust into his hand and say "well, what's it gonna be, big guy? 

He chuckles, soft and low, lips apple-sticky on my skin and says, "Both, babe. Gimme another bite." 

* * *

End

 


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